Wherever She Goes(59)

“So you were supposed to take him from whoever had him.”

“Right. She gave me an address in Chicago. If anything happened to her, I’d get a call, and then I should go to this address. It wouldn’t be safe to give me the address over the phone, so I needed it in advance. The day before she . . . before she was murdered, she called to see if I still had the address. I asked if anything was wrong. She laughed. Said she’d had a nightmare that I’d lost the address, so she was checking. She did things like that, so I never questioned it. I should . . . Oh God, I should have questioned.”

“She didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“I know.” Another deep breath. “Then the police phoned about Kimmy, and I flew into a panic because no one had called about Brandon. You did, and I thought for a second that was the call . . .”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No, and I was already on my way to Chicago. I thought maybe his caregivers couldn’t get through or they’d lost my phone number. I told myself everything was fine, Brandon was fine. But then I got to the address where he was supposed to be . . .”

“And he wasn’t there.”

“No one was there. It’s an empty house. I freaked out. I searched it for any sign that he’d been there, and there was nothing. Now I’m in Chicago, and my husband thinks I’m making arrangements to bring Kimmy’s—to bring her home—but I haven’t even spoken to the police yet. I just keep waiting for that call, and circling back to the address, in case I missed them and . . . And I don’t even know what to do.”

I open my mouth to say I’ll be right there. It’s the first thing that comes. Then I see Paul, lifting Charlotte onto the play structure.

I can’t do this. For the sake of my family, I cannot do this.

Yet I can’t say that either. There’s a woman in crisis on the other end of this line. A woman whose sister has been murdered. Whose nephew is missing. I will not say “I can’t help you” and hang up.

“My husband is a lawyer,” I say. “A criminal attorney. He’s right here. He knows what’s been going on. May I get his advice and call you back?”

There’s a pause, and I’m not sure if she’s hesitating about me explaining to Paul or she just doesn’t want to let me go. When she gives a reluctant yes, I promise to call ASAP and disconnect.

Paul catches my eye, and I only nod, letting him know I’m off the phone. He’s playing with Charlotte, and I don’t want to interrupt him. After a moment, he comes over and says, “Is everything okay?”

I tell him what’s happened. When I finish, he pushes his glasses up his nose and pinches the bridge, his eyes shut. It’s a gesture I know well, the one he’d make if I came to him with a problem after a long day of work. It means he’s too exhausted to deal with this, but he won’t say that. He never says that.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You don’t need this—”

“Aubrey?” He meets my gaze. “Don’t.”

“I just—”

“You’re trying to help this woman. I want to help you. I’m just thinking that it’s a mess. An unfortunate and tragic mess, and I’m not even sure what to tell you. I know what you need to tell her, though. Call the police.”

“Go to them, not me. I should stay out of it.”

“I’m not saying that either. Charlotte is fine. I’m taking her to my mother’s for a few days. If you want to help this woman, then I will do what you needed me to do from the start—support your decision. But at this moment, she needs to tell the police everything. Not this Officer Jackson. Let me checked her out first. Have Ellie contact the detective in charge of Kim Mikhailov’s murder and tell them about her son. Tell them what’s happened.”

I nod. Then I make the call.





Chapter Twenty-Nine





Ellie won’t contact the police. Kim didn’t trust them, so she doesn’t either. I can’t do it myself, not when she’s adamantly opposed. So I’m stuck. I tell myself that’s a good thing. I cannot get involved. I have already endangered my child getting involved. Ellie needs to handle this, and with any luck, she’ll realize that the best way to do that is to involve the police.

I will not feel guilty about telling her I can’t help.

I won’t.

I do, of course. But I’ve made the right choice, and I need to let it go.



We’re driving to the house. Paul is taking Charlotte to his mother’s tonight, and he’d like me to come with them for the drive.

I shake my head. “I’ve never been your mom’s favorite person. Apparently, she had good instincts.”

Paul’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “I’d like to put that aside for now. Please.”

I glance back at Charlotte, asleep in her seat. “I’m not trying to start a fight.”

“I know. But I need to set it aside. I’m here to help you. I’d like . . . I’d like us to get past this, which means at some point, yes, we need to hash it out. Under the circumstances, though, it’s counterproductive. I’m not over it, but I’m not as angry as I was. I’d like to put the rest on pause.”